Secrets In The Breeze

by David Banner

  Published by Golden Pineapple Press.

  Copyright 2017 by David Banner.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarity to any person, place or event is purely coincidental. While I try my best to keep the geography of the beautiful state of Florida correct, some of the places in this work are fictional.

  CHAPTER ONE

  R OBERT WEBBER WAS AN ASSHOLE, PLAIN AND SIMPLE. Through the few short hours of the day when he wasn't laundering money for drug dealers, he would likely be found on the arm of one of at least three different women. That's why doing this was so easy for me. It had kind of become my rule since taking these sorts of jobs. Assholes get wiped out. Easy. And if his wife was so scared of him that she would only communicate with me through email, then he had to be too dangerous for anyone's good.

  I watched from across the bar as he smiled and laughed that booming, vodka-soaked laugh of his. It could be heard from one side of Tampa all the way to the other. The sound of it made my stomach turn. The man was the very definition of what was wrong with politics in the world. He was self-serving, egotistical, and as crooked as an alligator’s tail.

  Luckily, he, and just about everyone else around him, was so wasted that getting him on film was a pretty simple thing to do. I must have gotten at least fifty pictures by that point in the night, but I still needed that one good one: the money shot. I had pictures of him getting lap dances, pictures of him with his tongue in at least four different women's mouths, none of whom were his wife. Hell, I even had one of him punching a guy for what looked like nothing more than sport. But I wanted more.

  It had been just over four months since I moved to Anna Maria Island and officially started my little business, four months since, for lack of a better phrase, I became my parents. But as it turned out, private investigating came pretty naturally to me. And most of the time I felt like I was actually doing something that mattered. Granted, Robert Webber was only my third case. It is nice though; how easily you can fall into something once you accept that it just needs to be that way.

  And after everything I had gone through it really did just feel like it needed to be that way. For a while there my brother and I had become the kind of people my parents looked for, the kinds of cases they thrived on—proving innocent people innocent and serving justice to those truly responsible. After seeing Micah walk through that gate, I had come to realize how good that felt, how right that felt, and I wasn't about to stop other people from feeling it too.

  "Great ..." I muttered under my breath as the sound of Rooms Five filled the air around me.

  In the few days I'd been watching this asshole, I must have seen him get up and dance to that song twelve times. It was like clockwork. Every time that beat began thumping, he would stand, outstretch his right arm, pick a girl, and start swinging his hips like some geriatric cartoon character.

  This was how he chose to spend almost every night of the week. Drunk and high in the VIP section of BlowFish Inc, which just happened to be the hottest club in Tampa. Getting myself in was a little more complicated than I originally thought, but after getting a little dirt on the bartender it wasn't much trouble.

  "Ugh," I sighed, leaning back in my stool.

  "Hey doll," a voice said from beside me. "Here all alone?"

  "I'm good." I smiled.

  "I bet," the blonde woman said from behind about six pounds of lipstick. "But I could make you better."

  I shot her a quick smile and turned my attention back to Mr. Webber. Just as I was about to call it a night, I saw the thing I had been looking for since I’d arrived. There it was, my money shot was coming. In the few seconds I had turned away, one of Robert’s lackeys had spread white lines of cocaine out on the table. All I had to do was snap a photo of Mr. Webber snorting it up, and I was golden. Once the news got ahold of that he'd be dust. His wife would get her money’s worth, I'd get paid, and Tampa, Florida would have one less wannabe-politician helping to import drugs.

  Lifting my phone, I quickly snapped a few pictures as he rolled a bill, put it to his nose and traced the white lines. "Jackpot!" I said, immediately wishing I had kept my big mouth shut.

  Turns out, lipstick girl still had her eyes focused on me, and for whatever reason she wasn't too fond of the idea of my snapping photos.

  "Hey!" she yelled. "What the fuck are you doing?"

  "Shh ..." I said, hoping she'd calm down long enough for me to get out of there.

  That didn't work as well as I'd hoped though, in fact she did probably about the worst thing she could have. Grabbing my drink from the bar, she yelled toward Mr. Webber’s security and launched the small glass right at a muscular, stone-faced security guard.

  Looking over at her, she began pointing at me and yelling. I couldn't really be sure if he could understand her over the loud, bass-filled music but he obviously knew something wasn't right. I watched him make a run for us, and just as his feet hit the illuminated dance floor, so did mine.

  I made a mad dash for the door, busting my way through the crowd of dancing people, but quicker than a flash, the bald-headed man was hot on my tail. I quickly pushed out the door, stumbling onto the rain-soaked streets of Tampa. My car was only two streets over, and I knew if I could just make it there, I would be okay. But as in most cases, things didn't really go as planned.

  Robert Webber must have also had security outside on that particular night, something I neglected to notice after not seeing anyone out there on the first few nights. Given that this was Saturday, and the club was a little more crowded than usual, I guess it only made sense.

  I felt a large arm pull at my right shoulder and thrust me to the ground. I tumbled down, tripping over my own feet, and landed face first on the wet pavement. I skidded to a stop at the curbing of the street, narrowly dodging the man’s large foot as it stomped down next to my face.

  "Who are you?" His deep voice echoed around the buildings.

  But I knew better than to get caught up in that game. All I needed to do was get out of there, I already had everything I needed and now I just needed to get home.

  "Who are you?" the large man said again.

  Managing to get myself back on my feet I gave him a swift kick to the back of the knee, something I learned from Hope, then made a run for it. I was only one street away from my trusty Wrangler and I knew that once I got there I'd be gold. Rain poured down all around me as I ran down the busy Tampa street, weaving in and out of cars in an effort to lose the guy behind me.

  And after a few minutes it seemed to work well enough for me to hop in the driver’s seat and speed off into the night. The closer I made it toward Anna Maria Island, the more the rain subsided, and I was happy about that. While I never really minded the rain so much, I couldn't say that I was in love with the idea of waking up to a muddy beach on a morning when I knew I'd want to take in that warm gulf sunrise.

  But as quickly as it came, relief turned to frustration. Sliding my hand into my coat pocket, and feeling for my phone, I realized it wasn't there. It must have slipped out of my pocket somewhere on the street, most likely when I hit the ground. "Fuck!" I said aloud.

  It wasn't a total loss though, I knew that. As long as the battery didn't die, or the rain didn't render it unusable in the next few minutes, I knew all the photos I had taken would be automatically uploaded to my computer back home. As long as that happened, I was okay.

  At least, that’s what I thought. But the world is a funny place. It just seems to have a way of taking that one small thing you hadn't really thought about and turning it into a storm bigger than anything you could possibly see coming.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "K EEP 'EM CLOSED," MICAH SAID, HIS HANDS WRAPPED AROUND MY EYES.


  "Okay," I said.

  Micah had been waiting weeks for this moment, and since getting the phone call that the sign was going to be delivered today, he hadn't shut up about it. I didn't mind though, I liked seeing him excited about something.

  "Okay!" he said. "Ready?"

  "Ready!"

  Micah pulled his hands away from my eyes. Where once was a dilapidated, sunken in shingle roof there was now a shiny metal roof and a neon sign.

  "FreeFish!" I said, looking up at the glowing image in front of me.

  On the sign was the image of a fish leaping out of the water and giving a thumbs-up. Just like my little brother, it was full of emotion and heart. I loved it.

  "Yea!" Micah said. "It’s us ... free fish. Get it?"

  "I do. Has Rachel seen it?"

  "Yup!" Micah snapped. "She loves it. Girl's got taste."

  We had been living on Anna Maria Island for almost five months now, and it was mostly going pretty well. Micah had been using the minor celebrity status we earned after the Mayor Hall debacle to his full advantage. While for the most part, I tried my best to fly under the radar.

  I tried, when at all possible, not to think about everything that had gone on with Micah and me, but there were times, usually late at night, when the memories would come creeping back in. I would still wake, startled out of my sleep by the image of Sonny bleeding out on the floor of that house. I would hear Anna's chains rattle and see the image of that disgusting trophy wall.

  But, generally, I was doing okay. I had learned to keep myself busy. Anna Maria Island was good for that, it was easy to find something to occupy the time, even if that something was just lying on the beach and looking out at the waves. Even with everything we had gone through I was happy. Happy enough anyway.

  "Looks good, right?" Rachel said from behind me.

  "It ought to," I smiled. "Micah must have redrawn that thing fifteen times before having it made."

  "He's proud." Rachel smiled.

  "I know," I said, watching him take photos of the sign. "I'm happy for that."

  The bar was scheduled to open in three weeks. And with each passing day it was becoming a bigger and bigger source of news on the small island. The local paper had already run two separate stories about it, with the promise of more to come. Rachel already interviewed at least a dozen people to cover the shifts, while most of my time had gone to talking to local fisherman and suppliers.

  I hadn't realized just how much effort goes into something like opening a bar, not to mention having to restore it first. If I was being honest though; I was really enjoying myself. The thought of both having a house and owning a business with my brother was a very satisfying feeling, especially since so much of our lives had been spent in a form of slow chaos. But with each passing day it all seemed to get better.

  "Three weeks ..." Rachel looked at me.

  "So," I said. "What about when the thing finally opens. Are you going to—"

  "I'll see ..." she said. "But you know how I feel about living in a bachelor pad."

  "It wouldn't be a bachelor pad if you were there too. Then it'd just be a house."

  She brushed the hair from her face and let her eyes rest on mine. We'd gone over this a few times before and I hadn't really managed to get very far with her. She was stubborn that way and I guess maybe so was I, since I was the one that kept bringing it up. "You'll save the rent money," I said.

  "I'm an adult, Brandon. Adults pay their own way. I don't care about that," she said.

  "I know."

  She really didn't care about that and I knew it. But I had gone over every good reason with her a hundred times before and I had yet to make any headways. But her views on the situation weren't completely lost on me, I understood where she was coming from. Having that sense of independence was an important thing to a lot of people, myself included.

  It was both similar, and different, to the relationship I had with Micah. I didn't want my brother to have to rely on me for anything, I wanted him to be his own man, to be independent and strong. But on the other hand, I wasn't ready for him to leave. I still felt like I had things to teach him, more importantly I felt like he had things to teach me.

  "There's a lot going on now." Rachel wrapped her fingers in mine. "We'll talk about this another time. I've got another interview in just a couple of minutes anyway."

  "Alright."

  I spent the next few minutes walking around the perimeter of the bar, which finally had a name. I guess I would just have to get used to calling the thing FreeFish. Looking at it I was surprised by how much work had been done during our short time on the island. Old boards had been replaced with new, sturdy ones. The plumbing had gone from a mess of loose pipes to a functional system, and with each new shipment the bar’s stocks became fuller. It was beginning to look like an actual business and not just someone's dream.

  The sound of the water did a lot to calm me and help forget the memories of the night before. I didn't like the idea of dwelling on cases after they were closed. And, after those photos of Robert Webber hit the news later that day, the case was surely closed.

  While my phone had gone missing, I was right about the photos auto-uploading. As soon as I had walked through the door, I had seen them sitting on my computer screen in a folder with yesterday's date.

  It was now still early in the morning though, and the more I looked out at the warm blue water, the more I just wanted to walk out into it.

  I floated around out there, letting my body get lost in the calming water when I noticed a figure in the distance. A woman wearing a long orange dress and sunglasses stood under a palm tree staring at me. I didn't think much of it at first, turning my eyes back to the blue sky, but looking back about fifteen minutes later I noticed she was still there, still looking at me. With my curiosity piqued, I got out of the water, picked up my shirt from the ground and walked toward her.

  "Can I help you with something?" I asked.

  "Yes," she replied. "You're Brandon Waters, from the news. I need your help. My name is Sharon Rhodes."

  "What's the issue?"

  "I'm in fear for my life," she said with tears in her eyes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW POWERFUL THEY WERE," SHARON SAID. "It was just a game, I thought we were just messing around."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm afraid of saying too much, I can't be sure who's listening." She nodded to the few people passing by along the beach.

  "I really don't think anyone—"

  "You don't know that!" she snapped. "I just need to know if you'll help me?"

  "I can't help you if I don't have any information. And so far, you haven't given me any."

  "It wasn't supposed to go this way. I'd gotten myself mixed up with the wrong people. He was trying to help. That's how we met, that's how ..."

  It was easy to see, she was nervous and scared. Every five seconds, she popped her head up like an ostrich, looking around for danger.

  "Oh my God!" she said as her phone began to ring. "It's her!"

  "Who?" I asked, looking down at the phone and seeing the word 'Landshark' flashing across the screen.

  "Ahh ..." she yelled in anger, throwing her phone out into the blue Gulf waters.

  "Calm down," I said. "Just tell me what's going on and I'll try my best to help you."

  "No ..." she said. "Not here. Not now."

  "Then where?"

  "Tonight."

  "Tonight, where?" I asked.

  "I ... I don't know. I'll find you. Here. I'll come here," she said, walking back and forth in front of me. She rubbed her hands together frantically, talking to herself under her breath.

  "Wait!" I said. "Let me help you."

  "Tonight!" she yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of people.

  Two days later I had a meeting with Randy Arnold and if I was telling the truth, I was pretty excited about it.

  Randy Arnold was probably the friendliest guy on Anna
Maria Island, as well as being one hell of a fisherman. I had spoken to him a handful of times since officially moving to the island. We had only spent a few minutes together each time, but he seemed to always have a story or adventure to tell me about.

  That was all well and good though, I'd listen to his stories everyday if that’s what it took to get me oysters so good I had to sit after eating one. Randy grew up on Anna Maria Island, he knew the land and the waters surrounding it like the back of his hand, which also meant he knew where to find the best catch.

  He currently supplied one restaurant and two bars with their daily catch, and I knew that if FreeFish was going to gain any traction we'd need the best stuff, right off the bat. That's why whenever he agreed to meet with me I jumped so quickly at the chance.

  It was already 1:00pm and I was scheduled to see Randy for drinks in forty-five minutes. So, I began walking down the beach toward Rod Reel Pier, the place we agreed to meet. Try as I might, I couldn’t help thinking about Sharon and what she must be going through, thinking her life was about to unravel around her. I knew those feelings all too well, and the memories of them never seemed to get any easier.

  But I made a promise to Micah. A promise to do everything I could to help launch this bar and make it a success. It was one of the first things I had ever seen him excited about, and that, to me, made it very important.

  "You're early!" Randy said with a big smile. "My kinda man!"

  "Good!" I smiled back. "I wasn't busy."

  "Living on Anna Maria will keep you busy being not busy ..."

  "Yeah ..." I said.

  Randy was a large man with an even larger personality. Even being around him for just a few minutes made it easy to see why he was so popular with both locals and tourists alike. He had a thick bushy white beard, and wavy silver hair that always seemed to be flowing in the wind, even when mine was sitting still on my head. He was everything a person imagined when they thought of a Florida fisherman, and it all just worked in his favor.

  "Wanna sit down?" I asked.